


night court

by stagemanager



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon), Character Study, F/M, Family, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 07:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18912391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stagemanager/pseuds/stagemanager
Summary: Snapshots of the Hidden World’s Royal Family, from night to day.





	1. the alpha

Before he met the boy, his only companion was the crystal in the sky.

He does not remember his family. The earliest memory he can recall is waking up on a colorless, craggy shore, the call of a queen compelling him to obey. Though his mind is swayed by her song, he does not obey her orders to steal. Instead he disappears into the darkness, there and yet not.

In this long season, when he is a distant archer and stranger, he perches on the highest point of the nest to gaze at the crystal. The light shimmers around him, cleaving through the red fog, and he soars to greet it. Each time, he descends from the sky alone, his companion just out of reach.

Until one day, he is no longer alone. A boy of metal, parchment, and sea salt—weak yet burning with a hidden fire—brings him into a world of color and light. The lonely, cold nights are replaced by crowded, warm days. Even though there is a constant weight upon his back, he feels lighter than ever.

The boy quickly becomes his friend. The two have numerous adventures together, each one a precious jewel that he greedily hoards in his memory. But despite the boy’s endless kindness and love, he still finds himself gazing at the sky. The crystal has more meaning now: he has gifted its beauty to the boy and they share its light together. There are more memories to hoard—both sad and happy ones—and yet he cannot shake the strange feeling that something is missing.

He finds her cradled in a bed of leaves, her blue eyes greeting his. And all at once, he recognizes _her_ —recognizes his Light. She is beautiful and perfect, and he immediately decides that he would do anything to keep her from slipping from his grasp. But he is torn, caught between her and the boy. There are two of them and only one wish.

In the end, it is the Light that he chooses. It is the boy, the kind human who gave him color and life, who compels him to follow her—protect her. And so with one final embrace—his back is _light_ but his heart is _heavy_ —he says goodbye to his best friend.

When they return to the glowing caverns, he retakes the throne, the world looking to him once more. The roar he delivers is commanding and proud, appropriate for his position. It hides his sadness well.

He tries not to look at his tail.

That night, when his subjects are asleep and the caverns silent, he steals away to the edge of the world to stare at the crystal. As the mist dances around him, he hopes that there is someone—a boy of metal, parchment, and sea salt—basking in the light with him as well. And for a tiny, fleeting moment, there is a warm, gentle touch upon his face.

From that point on, the sky-gazing becomes a daily part of his life. Even with his mounting responsibilities, he tries to get away each night.

Until one evening his Light coaxes him back to their den, a shimmering crystal by her side.

His eyes widen.

The crystal is small, so very _small_. His Light is curled around the tiny object, her white scales contrasting with black-spotted shell. Carefully, he lowers his head and touches the crystal with his nose. The surface feels cool against his warm scales.

An unknown sensation flutters inside his stomach. It reminds him of a fish flopping in a too-small puddle. Something like footsteps, rope, and silver daggers.

But his Light is _happy_ , and so he pushes the feeling down and brings her offerings of fish. He licks her face and gives her stories and smiles. And when the crystal goes cold, the little fire finally flickering out, he pulls his Light close and lets her grieve. As she mourns into his neck, he recalls a similar image from before, a memory of soft flesh and auburn hair. The endless nights spent with tears and sobs falling onto his black scales. How much the boy needed him after it happened.

The night that his first child dies, he does not sneak away. Even in the midst of her sorrow, his Light seems surprised, her voice echoing a concerned query. He doesn’t deserve her. _But your boy_ , she asks quietly.

 _He is not a child anymore_ , he answers, grassy eyes older and cloudy. _And neither am I._

Slowly, _obediently_ , he ceases his starlit journeys. The hoard is carefully hidden in a forest clearing, the trees growing larger every moon. He draws pictures for his Light instead, and dances with her in the caverns.

One by one the memories fade. And the King moves on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that there is a ten year gap between HTTYD 3 and its epilogue, it doesn’t make sense that the three little Night Lights would be their first clutch.


	2. the prince

From the moment he hatched, he has admired the Alpha. The last shadow-blender is the most powerful dragon, mated to a regal light-blender and friend to all. He is the master of lighting and shadow, wielding the blue fire with deadly accuracy and effectiveness. No creature dares to defy his power; even the massive ice-titans and ground-shakers bow to his roars. The last shadow-blender is the King of Dragons, the guardian of their world and adored by all.

The King is his greatest role model, the dragon whose legacy he aspires to follow someday.

He is also his father and the most confusing creature he has ever met.

The same dragon who vanquished the Red Queen and overthrew an ice-titan is, in the simplest terms, an oversized puppy. Beneath his pitch-black exterior is a soft-scaled reptile who loves fish and doing disgustingly sweet gestures for his family. His father is a grossly affectionate and generous being, especially when it comes to complimenting and embarrassing his children in front of the entire kingdom.

But the strangest thing about his father is his friendship with the humans who visit every summer. At first, he thought the humans were interesting creatures; they have no scales, no wings, and no fire. They are fragile beings that cover their soft bodies with strange coverings. And yet for some reason, the great King of Dragons treats them as equals, even allowing them to ride on his back. It is inconceivable.

In his quest to find answers, he turns to his mother. Her responses are short and vague, and there is a strange light that flickers in her eyes.

_“Perhaps it is hard for you to imagine, my child, but your father had a life before he became king. Though I cannot share everything about his past, I can tell you that the humans were an important part of his life. The tall one, in particular, is very special to him, and that is why your father allows him and his children to ride on his back.”_

That first summer, when the humans visited for the first time, the King told them a story of the time before. He told them about a small human boy who saved a mighty dragon. Against all odds, the boy and dragon became best friends, and overcame every obstacle the world threw at them together. It is wonderful tale, spun by his father so beautifully. Each time he hears it however, he dismisses it as a product of his father’s imagination. It is not until one summer, seasons after the first, that he begins to entertain the notion that the story is true.

Like every visit, it begins with the King alighting on the wooden ship, his grassy eyes studying the humans. The Queen remains on the island, patiently awaiting her mate’s decree. Behind her hides the princess and in front of her bounces the younger prince. From his vantage point in the mist, he can see the tallest human—the one _special to him_ —stepping forward and greeting his father with an open hand.

_“Nice to see you too, Bud! How are you doing?”_

After embracing the tall human, the King escorts the ship to their misty meeting place. The four humans exit the floating vessel as usual, but rather than the tall one leading, it is the flaxen-haired boy who steps on the rock first.

_“Nuffink, what are you doing?”_

If he was the reluctant listener, his younger brother was the transfixed believer. His brother is the curious deviant, constantly asking questions and begging for more stories. With his warm personality, it came as no surprise that he was the one who embraced the humans and their culture.

 _“You said I could finally ride Stitch alone today.”_ ‘ _Stitch_ ’?

His white-scaled brother gives him a proud look. _I like the name_ , it says. He is a hatchling.

_“I know I did, but hang on a second. We’ll all go up together.”_

At the boy’s irritated expression, the tall one and the other flaxen-haired human quickly get astride two of the dragons. The auburn-haired girl joins the tall one on the King’s back, while the flaxen-haired woman mounts the spike-tail Beta.

_“Ready everyone?”_

Before anyone can answer, the King takes to the air with an excited warble, the smaller human on his back screaming. _Wonderful._

His father’s usual oddities aside, the flight proceeds as normal. As normal as it can be, anyways. His sister yelps in concern, blue eyes wide, when his father unexpectedly spins in barrel roll. While the humans are left breathless, their soft coverings askew, the two smile joyfully. The auburn-haired girl’s steps are clumsy as she dismounts the King’s back, joining the other female on the Beta.

_“Thank you, Toothless, but can you please tell us AHEAD of time when you’re going to do that? Zephyr’s grip wasn’t—oh, GREAT.”_

The King flips into another roll, sending the humans (and some dragons, he notices) into a laughing fit. Not to be outdone, his brother twists as well, another gummy grin on his face.

And then it happens. One moment the flaxen-haired boy is whooping with delight, the next he is yelling— _shrieking_ —hands reaching desperately for white scales.

Time stands still. Apathy suddenly explodes into debilitating concern. There are screams beside him: human or dragon, he does not know. And then a streak of black dives down beside him, forcing everything back into motion.

_“NUFFINK!”_

He has never seen his father fly so fast. The weight on his back does not slow him in the slightest; in fact, it seems to push him faster as he cleaves through the clouds. The sky shatters under his power, crumpling as his obsidian wings rush by. The human seems to disappear into his back, his fragile body flat against the King’s wings. The man and the dragon descend straight down, two beings as one, as the flaxen-haired boy plummets closer to the raging tides. They aren’t going to make it in time, their positioning is off, the human is going to _die_ , _Father—_

_“NOW, TOOTHLESS!”_

The sky itself seems to roar as the King suddenly unfurls his wings, his descent now slowing. The human on his back reaches out, arms outstretched, snatching and saving the falling boy. It all happens so quickly, so efficiently and perfect, that his mind is left reeling.

_“Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now. You’re safe.”_

They return to the rock after that, everyone still shaken from the near-death experience. The flaxen-haired boy sits silently on the stone, his hands still pale and trembling. Slowly, his brother walks up to the child, his pupils round and head lowered. Green eyes stare into their mirror.

 _I’m sorry_ , they both say. _Forgive me, please?_

That night, after the ship has disappeared back into the mist and they have retired to their den, he goes to the King and asks him for a story. His father smiles, a gummy grin that dispels any appearance of terror, and he calls for the rest of the family to gather around.

_“Many winters ago, there was a boy who saved a dragon…”_

That summer, when two kings saved a falling child, he listens to his father’s story for the first time. And slowly, _finally_ , he begins to understand.

His father is many things: a king, a protector, a guardian, an alpha. But it is his loyalty and kindness as a simple friend that the next heir learns to admire the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three Night Lights, two which are primarily black and one that is primarily white. The oldest one, Windwalker, is a black and white male with green eyes. The second oldest, Stitch, is a male with white scales and has green eyes. The youngest and sole female, Skybright, is black and white with blue eyes.


	3. the child

She is the youngest child and the King’s only daughter.

Her oldest brother—emerald eyes and obsidian scales—is being groomed to be their father’s heir. As soon as he could fly, he joined their father on his daily flights, listening to everything there was to know about their world and its inhabitants. Her oldest brother had always been a rapid learner. Out of the three of them, he was the first to fly and the first to master his fire. He is the perfect blend of Father and Mother’s best traits: intelligent, kind, brave, and strong. Nobody is worried about him assuming the throne after Father steps down.

Secretly, she is relieved that the crown does not fall to her. Her light-blending never seems to work, and she never wins any of their scuffles. She could never live up to the King’s lofty legacy.

Her other brother—eyes of dewy leaves and scales like snowfall—is the rebel, the one who flies too close to the sun. He is eternally friendly and curious, constantly asking questions about everything. While he was not the first of them to venture above the Falls, he was the first to ask if there was anything outside of their world. When Father tells his stories of the time before, her other brother sits the closest to him, as if the proximity brings him closer to human world. He is always silent during these instances, only speaking out when the stories conclude and he wants to hear more. Of the three siblings, he is always the last of them to leave the ship every summer, his eyes drifting back to the flaxen-haired boy.

On every flight back to the den, her gaze inevitably lands on her father and mother’s faces. Each goodbye gets a little harder for her brother. Silently, she wonders if the threads that tie him back will ever break under the weight of his curiosity.

The youngest child doesn’t know where she belongs in all this. Her brothers take after their father so closely, and so she reasons that she must be like her mother then. But while they may share the same eye color, she and her mother are two very distinct individuals. Her mother is a measured, poised creature, exuding an air of nobility and beauty. While she, in comparison, is an awkward, excitable hatchling who loves fish and has tripped on her tail more than once. Where the Queen is confident and certain, the princess is confused and unsure. She is the King’s only daughter and a child in a new world, and there isn’t really a guide for all this.

Every time she feels confusion and uncertainty start to overwhelm her, she escapes to her hidden sanctuary in the coral cave. Her secret paradise is nothing but a cove framed by fauna and rock, but she loves it regardless. The sand is powdery fine and white, perfect for drawing in, and the glowing corals bathe the area in a rainbow of lights. This place is her private piece of the world, the secret that only she knows. For the longest time, a visit to her sanctuary was a common part of her routine. At least, until _he_ came along.

 

(She remembers her brother—summer eyes and winter scales—landing ungracefully on the ledge, his eyes wide and bright. Her parents greet him with a strange look: _what’s going on, where have you been, are you okay?_ _“Dad!”_ , he shouts, wings flapping. _“There’s an injured light-blender at the Falls!”_ )

 

Her first reaction to him is one of careful curiosity. He is a light-blender, another white-scaled example of the species. He is older than her, perhaps by a winter or two. There doesn’t seem to be anything unique about him, except the odd manner of their meeting.

 

(One of Father’s Betas—it was a kind and gentle cross-wing, she recalls—carries the wounded dragon to the cliff. The light-blender makes no sound as he is lowered to the ground, his eyes still shut. As her parents and the Beta begin to discuss the stranger’s future, she is able to get her first real look at the new arrival. There is an old scar made of up several jagged diamonds on his leg, and one of his wings is bent painfully into an unnatural angle. As she continues to examine the light-blender, her concern and curiosity growing, his eyes suddenly snap open. The sight of two pale, pupil-less voids pushes her nervousness out into an audible gasp.)

 

The dragon is a mystery. His wing is broken, there’s a bite mark on his leg, and he’s _blind_. How did all of this happen? How is he even _alive_?

The second encounter between them only exacerbates her confusion.

 

(With their flatter surfaces and soft moss beds, the lower cliffs are often occupied by fledgeling flocks. While older dragons occasionally descend down to the cliffs, these instances are often rare and unusual. The young dragons are territorial, and do not like others encroaching onto their space. Even so, as a member of the royal family, she is required to check in on the flocks. Though she has been to the cliffs hundreds of times, there is one incident in particular that remains clear in her memory. It began like any other visit, the fledgelings clambering for attention at her and her mother’s arrival. After playing several games with the younger dragons—they are amused and impressed by anything she does—Mother indicates that it is time for them to leave. Still captivated by the children’s usual spell, she begs her mother to let her visit another group before they leave. The Queen responds with a twinkling expression before flying off to check on the far side of the forest, instructing her to finish surveying this area. Ecstatic at her successful plea, she flies to a slightly higher cliff where the older children play. The cliff is louder than usual when she lands, a small but rowdy group of dragons clustered among the fungi. As she weaves through the mushrooms to join the others, she notices that there is an older dragon—the _blind light-blender_ —in the midst of the group. And suddenly, she realizes that the children’s dialogue is not happy conversation but grating and disturbingly _specific_ slander against the light-blender’s disability.)

 

She doesn’t remember when she started shouting at the fledgelings. She was angry— _furious_ at what they’d said—and it just sort of happened. One moment there’s roaring and the next there’s a heavy silence. The young dragons promise to _never_ , _EVER_ , bully anyone ever again. After the fledgelings leave— _quickly,_ she observes—she turns to the light-blender.

_“I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know why they did that.”_

_“It’s no problem. That was really cool of you to do that. Thank you.”_

A beat. She stares at his blank eyes, _really_ looking at them for the first time. They are a faint green color, like the sea foam on the waves. The urge to paw at the ground suddenly appears in her mind, and she squashes it down. _“Um, you’re welcome. Are you, um, okay after all that?”_

His ears flop to the other side. _“Yeah, I’m good. It doesn’t bother me.”_

Something twists inside her stomach at his words. Her pulse begins to quicken. _“How… How can you say that? They insulted you to your face and you’re ‘good’ with it? How are you not bothered at all by that?”_

She can feel the fire growing inside her, kindled by her anger. The flames seem to scorch something within her, a wall that hides emotions and fears under her drawings and smiles. In front of her, the light-blender stands still, his pupil-less eyes looking through her. _Beyond_ her. His ears lower and he answers. _“They’re just kids. You can’t expect them to know everything, know how to respond to people with disabilities or even know what disabilities are. What it’s like to be trapped in darkness or silence for your entire life. Adults are supposed to teach their children how to do that sort of thing. And if those kids already knew about that, well then that’s just an unfortunate part of my life. We tend to lash out against things we don’t understand. I’m used to it by now. And I’m not mad at them.”_

After that incident, she begins to follow the light-blender around. His answer resonates in her head days later, still scratching at the wall and leaving her restless. She will figure out what the deal is with this dragon, and why he’s somehow _okay_ with all of this—at peace with everything life has thrown at him. Because she _isn’t_ . With his injured wing, his days are confined to the ground and he is forced to ask for her help on occasion. Still, the light-blender manages to find a way to explore the caverns as a flightless creature, climbing up ledges and hopping from perch point to perch point. “ _Pure skill”_ , he tells her. When she narrows her eyes at him, a decidedly unamused expression on her face, he quickly adds “ _and echolocation”_. Immature reptile.

Because of her mission to understand the light-blender, her royal obligations must be altered. While she still joins her family during the Nest’s feeding times, she often breaks away to spy on the mysterious dragon. The light-blender has a unique way of catching fish, his eyes and wing forcing him to take a different route. Like the others, she initially thought that others would have to bring him food; however, he is perfectly capable of feeding himself. _Impressively so_ , she notes, recalling a rather sizable pile of fish he succeeded in acquiring one day. Regardless, she checks up on him during feeding time regularly, just to see if he is healing and willing to spill some more information.

On one rare occasion, where both of her brothers are occupied and she is alone with her parents, her father asks her about her and the light-blender. Her _and_ the light-blender. Together. Not mutually exclusive. She manages to only sputter for a moment before dismissing the question and flying away, trying not to notice the expressions on her parents’ faces.

He’s just another riddle, a puzzle for her to solve. In no way is he her friend. His optimism and inherent skill at _everything_ baffles and irritates her. How he’s managed to slither his way into her family’s good graces, and keep her from her secret paradise. She can’t stand the fact that he is a blind eel who knows what he’s doing, and she, the _King’s daughter_ , clearly _doesn’t_. Everything about him fills her with an icy cold: everything he means and everything he stands for. _This is fine, everything’s fine, she’s FINE._

Eventually, the light-blender’s wing heals and he is able to take to the sky again. The sight of him flying above her through the caverns fills her with an unfamiliar emotion, something like fire and ice at the same time. Her father does not ask her about the light-blender anymore— _thank goodness_ —but he still looks at her with a strange light in his eyes. As she watches the white dragon glide through the air, she notices that he has little spikes running along his back instead of the typical single spine. His ears flop wildly from side and side, and she refuses to call the action cute.

She starts returning to her secret place again. The dancing colors and soft sand help her push away the chaos. There are no appearances to maintain here, no legacy to fill, and no light-blenders to make her feel completely inadequate. Just the quiet rippling of the water and the distant echoes of flapping wings. She is finally, utterly _alone_ , and she couldn’t be happier.

In the lonely silence of a too-small cove, she sketches a picture of two dragons dancing in the sky. The drawing is perfect, a stark contrast to her defective reality.

It’s lonely.


	4. the trickster

_“Why exactly am I doing this again?”_

_“You’re doing it because I’M awesome and our sister’s awesome. And besides, you like them together too.”_

_“I shall repeat the question: why?”_

_“Because YOUR plan to get them together sucked and mine is so much better.”_

A sputter. _“No, I—He does not understand that I am the HEIR and he must respect the authority of the position!”_

_“You’re just upset that your death glares don’t work on him, Windy.”_

_“I am not! And I told you stop calling me that!”_

Rolling his eyes, the white-scaled dragon peeks out from behind the boulder. Target One is in place, and Target Two seems to be moving into position on schedule. Satisfied, he ducks back into his hiding place and turns to face his brother.

_“Phase One is complete. Phase Two is a go. Ready?”_

Windy’s only response is a disapproving huff.

_“Just go please!”_

Thankfully, his brother moves from the rock and to his designated spot. Flashing the black dragon one of his trademark smiles, he turns away and activates his light-blending, disappearing into the air. Silently, he takes to the sky and alights on a rocky ledge. Peering down, he sees his brother conversing with Target One. So far, so good.

The familiar snap of flapping wings overhead makes him turn skyward sharply. A dark form hovers above him. _No! She’s too early! Windy hasn’t left yet! No no no no!_

Whipping his head, he looks at his black-scaled brother _—who is still talking to the freaking light-blender!_ For what is _not_ the first time in his life, he wishes that he had mind powers. Or that his older brother wasn’t such a humorless rock. And then in what literally has to be the greatest feat of all time, his wishing _works_ and Windy _leaves_. He could actually scream right now with how surprised and happy he is. But the other dragon is still coming, and there’s still a plan going on despite all this.

_C’mon, fly closer. Lower, lower, and then aha! Gotcha!_

Immediately, he fires a single plasma blast at the flying dragon. The shot is not strong enough to cause any damage, but it manages to knock the dragon off balance and towards Target One. Yes, yes, yes!

_“Should she be falling like that?”_

_“WHOA! Windy! You startled me! How did you even…? I’m cloaked!”_

_“Really now, brother? Then your skills are becoming awfully subpar, I'm afraid.”_

_“I'm better than you at—! HEY!”_

A sudden noise draws their attention. Looking out, they see the fallen dragon being carried to the ground by the light-blender, the two dragons now engaged in conversation.

 _“Are you okay?”_ the light-blender asks, helping the other dragon to her paws.

 _“I-I’m fine, thank you. Just me being clumsy as usual.”_ The blue-eyed dragon gives a breathless laugh, a hollow noise that is deafening with uncomfortability. She looks down, pawing at the ground. “ _You must think I’m so dumb ‘cause I can’t even fly straight. Meanwhile, you managed to fly through the Maze without crashing and you’re blind!”_

A beat. The blue-eyed dragon gasps, head jerking up and eyes wide with realization.

_“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“_

_“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not upset. And I don’t think you’re dumb.”_

_“You’re just trying to be nice to me!”_

_“No, I’m actually not. I’m just… stating the obvious, y’know?”_

Here it comes. The moment of truth. His brother rolls his eyes at his anxious demeanor, but he still notices the impatient curiosity in Windy’s eyes. Another pause. His claws dig into the rock, scratching lines into the surface. _Please work, please work, please work..._

 _“You really think I’m not dumb?”_ his sister finally responds, emotions bared. She sounds so very small. The light-blender smiles, a sincere and warm expression.

_“I can honestly tell you that I don’t. And for those that do, well, maybe they should fly into a wall.”_

At the light-blender’s words, his sister giggles, a light, pure sound that fills him with happiness. Turning to his brother, he sees a rare smile on his face.

Mission Crash Test is a success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see, I can write something happy. Also, I freaking love Stitch. Cookie for those who know where his and Windy’s names come from.


	5. the light

Even many winters later, the sight of her world never fails to make her happy.

The caverns glitter and glisten in a million different colors, crystals, coral, and fungi bending the light into multi-hued patterns. In front of her, a thunder of dragons weaves between the stalactites, a dance of scales and claw. Somewhere in the distance, a spike-tail calls to a hum-wing, the familiar noise echoing across the rocks. 

Standing on the rock, wings comfortably folded to her sides, she allows a serene smile to appear on her face. The soft whistle of wings sounds above her, and she looks up with an amused expression. Stepping to the side, she makes room for her mate upon the platform. After greeting each other in their typical fashion—his warbles are cloyingly  _ adorable _ today—she nuzzles into the familiar bend of his neck. 

_ “I was wondering when you would finally show up. The flameskins burdening you with their demands again?” _

_ “Not this time. The amber-singers were complaining about a lack of prey for them to hunt.” _

Her mate shifts slightly, bending to rub the top of her head.

_ “Hatchlings, all of them. They ceased their whining as soon you roared at them I assume?” _

_ “Mm-hmm.” _

The rubbing on her head stops. A second later, she feels her mate pulling away, his grassy gaze focusing on her. There is a playful light dancing in his eyes.

_ “Speaking of hatchlings, what was so important that you called me away from my rounds today? Not that I mind or anything.” _

_ “It is wonderful to know that you have so little confidence in your heir. And so little concern for me.” _

The shadow-blender sputters, ears immediately straightening.

_ “I didn’t—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” _

As her mate trips over his hasty apologies, she swats him lightly with her tail. His expression switches from one of anxiety to one of confusion.

_ “Come fly with me.” _

_ “...W-What?” _

She swats him again, this time not as gently.

_ “Hey! What was that for?” _

_ “Follow me, you toothless tinywing.” _

Unfurling her shimmering wings, she leaps off the platform, her mate not far behind. As they fly through the caverns, light and scale sparkling before them, the shadow-blender begins to speak quietly.

_ “How are they doing? It must be nearing that time already.” _

_ “They are due any day now.” _

A pause. Her mate’s voice is softer, more pensive. There is a touch of sadness woven in.

_ “All healthy?” _

_ “Yes. The children will all survive. Our daughter… She is wonderful. I cannot describe how proud I am of her. How happy I am.” _

The shadow-blender makes a quiet noise of relief and agreement. The flight continues, the air slowly getting lighter. She guides him to a glittering ledge not too far from where their den is. Her mate follows obediently, alighting on the rock as silent as the night.

_ “And the proud father—how’s he handling all this?” _

_ “The sire grows restless with every passing moment. He may wear a hole in the rock if he does not stop pacing.” _

Her mate’s ears fall to the side, a thoughtful expression on his face.

_ “He never struck me as the type to worry.” _

_ “Need I remind you, my king, about who was so concerned about our daughter mating?” _

The King stops, embarrassment coloring his features.

_ “I… Okay. I’ll admit to that. But can you really blame me? I mean, he basically just showed up out of nowhere and she ends up falling in love with him! It’s kinda odd, don’t you think?” _

_ “As odd as us meeting, my love? Because I do recall that the very same thing happened to us. You, in particular, were exceptionally ‘odd’, what with your silly chicken impression.” _

The evolution of her mate’s expression in that moment causes her to giggle. After briefly blinking in confusion, the King’s ears flop to the side.

_ “Chicken? I was imitating spike-tails! That’s what Hiccup told me to do!” _

_ “Are we blaming the human now? I thought you better than that, o King of Dragons.” _

In her laughter, she nearly gets tackled by her leaping mate. The shadow-blender looks at her with a playful glint in her eyes, a gummy grin stretched upon his face. 

_ “I can show you ‘better’ if you’d like, my queen.” _

_ “How very tempting. But I am afraid it will have to wait until after more pressing matters. A queen’s work is never done, you know.” _

In a flash of white, she takes to the air, her tail waving lazily behind her. Immediately, the King gives chase. The moon and her night fly through the caverns, choreographing a beautiful yet playful waltz between them. The white-scaled dragon weaves between pillars of stone, gracefully dodging her mate’s every attempt. Still, his claws draw closer each time, and she launches a shot of violet fire in front of her. 

As the familiar warmth washes over her body, she flies to the center of the caverns. Touching down upon the worn rock, she allows the fire to leave her scales. 

A split second later, a fireball ignites the ground in front of her. Turning around, she sees a shadow-blender walking towards her.

_ “You always come back here.” _

_ “Well, it is my most favorite place in the world.” _

She lowers herself down upon the warmed rock, back against the cerulean crystals. Her mate joins her on the floor of their den. Wordlessly, he leans over and tenderly licks her nose. She places her head into its usual space before reciprocating his gesture.

_ “You’re such a hatchling.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ “You’re going to spoil those children terribly.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ “I love you.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ “I am aware that you know.” _

Nuzzling closer to her mate, his obsidian scales rubbing against her own, the Queen feels an immense calm settle over her. Somewhere out in the distance, young dragons are finding their places in the world, traveling farther and farther from their parents’ den. While a part of her feels sadness—her hatchlings have left the security of her wings—another part, a much larger part, feels incredibly proud. Tucked away in their hidden world, the shadow-blender’s powerful wings draped around her, the moon lowers her head and lets the world fall away. While her kingdom may be filled with glittering crystals and colors, it is her dear mate who makes her feel the happiest.

Perhaps she will tell him later about the familiar weights she is carrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toothless worships the very ground his wife walks on.


End file.
